


Return to me

by procrastibator



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 11:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastibator/pseuds/procrastibator
Summary: Dean knew there would be consequences to shoving Sam's soul back in his body, but he just wanted his little brother back.MAJOR SPOILERS for pretty much S1-S6. M/M, Sam/Dean - Yes, I know they're brothers. I still don't care! I don’t own Sam and Dean, but if I did, I would hold them hostage in my basement. :D





	Return to me

“Please,” Sam whispered. His body trembled as he curled his body tightly in the corner of Bobby’s guest room. “Please don’t be Dean again, anyone but Dean.”

Dean’s heart lurched. He’d been to Hell; he knew the kinds of games demons loved to play. He swallowed the sob that threatened to burst past his lips. Sam had been hallucinating for days and Dean couldn’t reach him, couldn’t comfort him. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s really me. It’s Dean.” He took a small step toward his brother and stopped when Sam burst into tears.

“You’re not Dean,” Sam sobbed. “I know you’re not my brother. Please don’t wear his face. I promise I’ll be good. I promise!” He rocked back and forth. He was a large, muscular man – a deadly hunter, but none of that was evident while he sobbed and begged. Sam had been reduced to a terrified boy.

Dean could no longer hold back the tears. “Oh, Sammy. I’m so sorry.” He collapsed to his knees and sobbed along with his baby brother. This was his fault. Everyone had warned him what might happen if he went through with cramming Sam’s soul back into his body, but he hadn’t listened. He’d wanted Sam back, not the monotone, soulless husk Crowley had dragged from the cage, but _his_ Sam. He’d wanted sweet, kind, hopeless dreamer, and impulsive pain-in-the-ass, Sammy. Dean wanted his baby brother, not this fragmented and tortured soul.

“Why are _you_ crying?” sniffled Sam. His large, wet eyes peeked over his forearm at Dean.

Dean wiped his face with the backs of both hands and swallowed. “Please, Sammy. You’ve gotta believe me. _I am your brother._ I’ve spent almost my whole life looking after you. I would never hurt you, Sam, not ever. It’s Lucifer! He fucked with your head, man. He tortured you down in that cage for over a year.” Dean choked on more tears. “Over a fucking _year_ and I was too busy playing house to save you. I’ll never forgive myself, Sammy.  But you gotta let me help you now. You gotta let me get close.”

Dean, unable to resist any longer, crawled toward Sam and took hold of his arm in an attempt to pull the larger man into his arms. If he could just prove to Sam he wasn’t going to hurt him, maybe he’d come back to himself. He ignored Sam’s screams, the way his body cowered and tried to get away. When Sam shoved, Dean countered by instinct, going so far as to slam his baby brother against the wall at his back so Dean could close in on him. “Dammit, Sam, I’m not trying to hurt you!”

“No!” Sam screamed. His eyes were screwed tightly shut and his head shook from side to side. “You’re not Dean,” he cried. “You’re not Dean.”

Sometime in the last few minutes, Dean had lost every ounce of patience he’d managed to hold onto. Cas had betrayed them, God had abandoned them, Bobby was living in a whiskey bottle, and Sammy…. _Sammy’s gone._ Grief slammed into Dean as surely as a physical blow. How much could he take? How long was he supposed to endure? Where was he supposed to unleash all the impotent rage that had been building up inside him since the day Yellow Eyes had murdered his mother, ruined his father, and set the course of his and Sammy’s lives? What the fuck had been the point of stopping the apocalypse? Yeah, sure, they saved millions of lives, but what did it matter? Why should Dean care when he’d lost the one person who made his life worth living?

Dean grabbed a handful of his brother’s chestnut hair and pulled. “Listen to me _right now,_ Sam!” He yanked harder on Sam’s head when he tried to shake Dean’s grip. “You stop this. Stop crying. Stop!” He slapped Sam with the tips of his fingers, hoping to stun him into reality. It worked…sort of.

Sam stopped crying and trying to get away, but the fear in his eyes was more evident than ever. In a dejected voice he whispered, “I’m sorry…Dean. I’ll be good. I’ll be a good boy. P-please, don’t hurt me.” He placed a trembling hand on Dean’s face. “I love you.”

Dean shut his eyes tight. Lucifer had done a number on his baby brother, his Sammy. How many times had Lucifer tortured Sam while wearing Dean’s face? Dean recalled his time in hell and suspected the number ranged in the hundreds of thousands, each month had been like a decade, and Sam had been gone over a year. How many times had Sam been raped by Lucifer while he pretended to be Dean?

Dean opened his eyes and stared into Sam’s. “I love you too, Sammy.” He let his brother’s hair go; horrified he’d lost his cool and done the one thing he said he wouldn’t do, hurt Sam. His little brother didn’t need any more pain in his life. He needed to be loved. He needed to be touched gently and reminded that his big brother would always take care of him, always give him what he needed. And if Sam didn’t believe he wasn’t Lucifer in disguise – well, he’d have to prove him wrong.

Slowly, Dean took a deep breath and regained his calm. Sammy needed him and Dean wasn’t about to let him down again. He got up from the floor, locked the door, and sat on the edge of Sam’s bed. In a steady voice he spoke to his brother. “Come here, Sammy.”

Sam whined. “I don’t want to.”

“Right now, Sam. You said you’d be…” Dean swallowed to keep from weeping, “A good boy. You know what happens if you don’t behave.”

Sam launched himself out of the corner and crawled swiftly between Dean’s spread knees as he knelt on the floor. “I’m sorry, Dean. I’ll be a good boy.” His hands reached to undo Dean’s pants and he whimpered when Dean told him no and pushed his hands away. Sam responded by pressing desperate kisses against Dean’s knee and thigh, and rubbing his head against him in supplication.

Dean placed a trembling hand against his baby brother’s head and gently stroked his soft, brown hair like he used to when Sammy was a boy. On the surface, he had done it to comfort Sam. Whenever his little brother had hurt himself, or cried because every time he managed to make a friend their dad told them to start packing, Dean would stroke his hair and hold him close. But it wasn’t always for Sam. Far more often, Dean would seek his little brother when he was scared or hurting. Knowing he had to be strong for Sam made him so. The first time their father hadn’t come home when he was supposed to, whenever Dean was hurt during a hunt and terrified of dying, and in the aftermath of his first broken heart, Dean held his brother for hours and stroked his hair. Sam had always been Dean’s security blanket. Until one day, Sam grew up and Dean had to let him.

Dean cleared his throat of tears and his mind of memories. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Sam turned his cheek into Dean’s palm and kissed it. “I’ll be good,” he whispered again, “I miss you, Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, about Ruby, and the demon blood, and,” he began sobbing, “About Lilith. I broke the fucking seal and I almost ended the world. I’m so sorry, Dean. I know I deserve this. I deserve to be punished…but please don’t. I love you so much.”

Dean could barely keep it together. Seeing Sam in so much pain was killing him inside. No matter what happened between them, Dean never stopped loving Sam, loving him was in his fucking DNA. He wished he’d said it more. He hated that it had taken something like this for Dean to open up and admit there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his brother. No rule he wouldn’t break. No line he wouldn’t cross. And hadn’t he broken all the rules already? Dean had brought his brother back from death. He’d gone to _Hell_ and back for him – _literally!_ What and who could possibly keep him from giving Sam what he needed now? Nothing and no one.

“I love you too, Sammy. I forgive you. You’ve only ever tried to do the right thing, even when you went about it all wrong. I’m no better, Sam. I brought you back from the dead and condemned myself to Hell because I couldn’t live without you. I never stopped to think what losing me would do to you. _I_ pushed you toward Ruby, Sam – _me._ You never would have started drinking the blood if I hadn’t made that stupid deal.” He laughed caustically, tears streaming down his face. “And as for the apocalypse? That’s on me too. I’m the one who broke the first seal. None of this is your fault, Sam. I was supposed to be looking out for you.”

Overwhelmed by emotion, Dean pulled Sam up onto the bed and laid him down. Without thinking, he placed a salt-laced kiss to his little brother’s lips, and then another, and another. He’d never kissed his brother before, never felt the need, but Dean needed it just then. He needed to show Sam how much he loved him and how much he needed to make up for all the torture and rape Lucifer had committed while wearing his fucking face.

It was a little weird. Well, a lot fucking weird, but Dean loved every second regardless. Alastair had used Sam against Dean in Hell, made Dean kiss and fuck by convincing him he had Sam locked up somewhere. Other times he planted false memories in Dean’s head – ones where he and Sam were lovers. The false memories were the worst because Dean had come to crave them. They had been his only respite from torture. They were also the reason Dean did anything and everything Alastair asked – anything for Sam, anything to keep him out of harm’s way. Even now, a tiny part of him wondered if he wasn’t still trapped in Hell and this kiss with Sam wasn’t simply another game.

Slowly, an agony of tentative torture, Dean felt Sam’s body release its tension and his soft, trembling lips opened, inviting Dean’s tongue inside.

Sam moaned softly, pressing his body toward Dean. His once limp arms came to life and pulled Dean close until their bodies lined up from mouth, to chest, to groin, to thighs, and finally sharp knees. “Please, Dean,” begged Sam between panting breaths. “Please don’t leave me.”

Dean whimpered before he could stop himself. “Never, Sam.”  He grabbed ahold of Sam’s t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. He was kissing his little brother’s warm, soft skin before he even settled against the mattress again.

“Feels good, Dean. Thank you.” Sam held Dean’s head against his chest in a pleading grip. “Thank you for not hurting me. I’ll behave from now on. I’ll listen.”

Dean’s heart felt as though it expanded in his chest. Sam wasn’t crying anymore, not screaming, or begging. Dean’s little brother was drowning in ecstasy and had even managed to get hard, Sam was slowly rocking his hips against him. “That’s it, Sammy. No pain, baby boy. I’m here.” He groaned when Sam thrust hard.

“Please, Dean. Let me come,” he panted.

Gentle, but shaking fingers slowly undid Sam’s pants. Dean slid up Sam’s chest so he could kiss him. They both moaned when Dean finally worked his brother’s cock out of his shorts. Sam’s cock was hard as steel and soft as velvet. “Fuck, Sammy. That’s some cock you’ve got here.” Sam smiled for the first time in days and Dean wanted to cry it was so beautiful. He thought he’d never see those dimples again.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome, Sam,” Dean whispered against his lips. He tightened his rough, hunter’s hand around Sammy’s erection and stroked him in long, steady pulls.

“Dean! Oh…yes…please.” Sam arched beneath his older brother, offering all of himself.

“That’s it, baby boy, feel how much I love you.” Dean kissed along Sam’s neck.

“I love you, Dean. I love you so, so much,” he keened. A few more kisses, and few more strokes of Dean’s calloused palm and Sam cried out in pleasure as he coated his big brother’s fingers with hot cum.

Dean felt his own climax overtake him seconds’ later, pumping semen into his underwear, but he didn’t care. He’d done it. He’d proven to Sam he could take care of him, that he wouldn’t hurt him, and that he would always be safe in this big brother’s hands.

“Dean?” Sam said somewhat distressed.

Dean’s head shot up from the crook of Sam’s neck. He looked into his brother’s eyes. “S-Sam? Is it you?” Dean could barely keep his heart from leaping out of his chest. He wiped Sam’s cum on his jeans and gripped his bicep.

Sam was still panting, but he didn’t seem panicked. “Yes,” he said and smiled. His dimples flashed as he looked Dean in his eyes. Finally, his cheeks reddened and he looked down at his spent cock. “Did this really happen? Did you really do this for me?”

Dean swooped down and planted a kiss on Sam’s lips. When he pulled away, his eyes were wet with jubilant tears. “Not just for you, Sammy. I did it for _us._ Because I love you and I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

Sam swallowed thickly. “I love you too, Dean. You’re really…my brother?”

“You’re damn right I am,” Dean said and laughed. He stroked Sam’s hair out of the younger man’s eyes and saw _his_ Sammy at last. “I missed you, Bitch.”

“I missed you too, Jerk,” Sam replied.

Dean peppered Sam with tender kisses as he held his baby brother close. He’d done it. He’d reached Sam. They would be okay now. They would heal. Sam began to cry and hid in Dean’s neck. Dean braced himself on an elbow and rolled Sam until he could stare down into his beautiful eyes. “Why are you crying, Sam?”

“Can I keep him for a while?” Sam brushed his fingertips down Dean’s cheek.

Dean huffed out a laugh, “Whatdya mean, Sam?”

“Let me stay here with Dean for a little while.” He huddled close to Dean made himself as small as he could and inhaled deeply against his neck. Dean made room. “You even smell like him this time.”

Dean swallowed hard against the tears that begged to burst from his tight throat. He kissed Sam’s temple and hugged him gently. “You can stay here as long as you want, Sam.” He thought back to the field, when Lucifer pummeled his face while wearing his baby brother’s body. He repeated the words that were meant to be his last.  “I’m here Sam. I’m not gonna leave you,” he whispered.


End file.
